Plaster Saint

three line tales, week 159: a little fellow dangling from a graffiti heart
Photo credited to Nick Fewings via Unsplash

(The artist renders) [an unbearable likeness] {through the soft-voiced}
(shadows without space) [cast into the plaster] {saint acclaimed in}
(false dimensions) [molded in unruly shapes] {and outside virtue}.

Written in reflection upon the above image for Week 159 of Three Line Tales. Apologies to anyone using screens that displace the () [] {} columns; the bracketed portions are intended to denote ‘panels’ in the spirit of polyptych art and found poetry, hopefully creating multiple meaningful readings. Expressing any confusion, criticism, or interpretations is immensely appreciated. This remains an experiment in need of refinement and it would undoubtedly benefit from outside input.



three line tales, week 158: a border with a barbed wire fence
Image accredited to Robert Hickerson via Unsplash


(Our lives boil)        [down to helical strands],  {coiled secret hearts}
(with promises)              [empty and forgotten]  {in scaly chambers}
(impatient to erupt) — [Rapunzel locked away] {eager to unfurl}.



Written for Week 158 of Three Line Tales in response to the above image. However off-putting the format, there is some intent behind it. Each bracket, () [] {}, is meant to form a column, potential stand-alones beyond the straightforward text. The idea is based on found poetry and polyptych art, separate scenes surrounding (and perhaps responding/relating to) a ‘main panel,’ which I generally consider to be the unbroken reading.

Hatsu-Suzume (First Sparrow)

Three line tales, week 157: a robin in a snowy bird feeder
Photo Accredited to Clever Visuals via Unsplash

(With callow warbles), [the scale sways]     {under the pressure of}
(the transient)              [oblivious its position] {some season ahead};
(first sparrow songs) [among empty branches] {reduced to echoes}.


An explanation may be necessary, particularly if the formatting has been altered by the device on which this is read. While the three lines may be read straight through, all of the parenthesizing is intended to segment the lines further into vertical readings. Each of the () [] {} groups are intended to separate into haiku; whether they comply with tradition is debatable (‘first sparrow’ was used as it is a kigo related to winter/New Year’s, but little else took tradition into consideration).

Written for Three Line Tales, a challenge hosted by Sonya at Only 100 Words. Rules can be found at her site for participation.


Orizuru and Migration


One thousand paper
cranes, shadows against gold dusk,
scatter on the wind.


|    deft claws                               heft                    gold stones
|          honed   wings steady the breeze     cranes
|      in fear                      sink                          release

Written for Ronovan Writes’ Haiku Challenge, which provided the prompts “crane” and “gold.” Orizuru are paper cranes, and legends tell that a crane will grant a wish to someone who makes (and keeps) 1,000 of them. As way of explaining the second effort, it is said that cranes will deliberately carry extra weight to ballast themselves against stronger winds. From what I can tell, that may be a matter of ancient lore.